


Crepes on Cole

by Make_It_Worse



Series: Follower Appreciation [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Crepes AU, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Flirting, Fluff, Good Parent Hank Anderson, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 07:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make_It_Worse/pseuds/Make_It_Worse
Summary: A cheerful bell jingles overhead when Hank walks through the door and Cole’s face pops up from behind the counter, “Hey, dad.”“Hey, buddy,” Cole flushes at the familiar nickname but doesn’t rankle at it. Not anymore.__This is part of my follower appreciation series. They're short little ficlets to show appreciation for all the support I get on AO3 and Twitter :)





	Crepes on Cole

Hank looks up at the sign, his chest swelling with pride. He’d had Cole young and had struggled as a single parent when his mom skipped out on them. _Challenging_ wasn’t a strong enough word to capture the first two decades of balancing Cole’s needs with the demands of Hank’s job. Still, it was the word his superiors liked to use anytime he asked for time off to go to one of Cole’s school events.

_Hank, we understand it’s challenging being a single parent, but…_

He took the time anyway. They wrote him up twice for it before he transferred to homicide. He and Jeffrey went way back, and the man had children of his own. He got it.

A cheerful bell jingles overhead when Hank walks through the door and Cole’s face pops up from behind the counter, “Hey, dad.”

“Hey, buddy,” Cole flushes at the familiar nickname but doesn’t rankle at it. Not anymore. They’d spent most of Cole’s teenage years at each other’s throats. Cole wasn’t a bad kid but his anger at his mom manifested in rage at his dad. He only has vague memories of a woman with soft brown hair.

If she left, it must be Hank’s fault.

It has to be because if Hank isn’t to blame, then it must be Cole.

It came to a head when Cole returned home for winter break during his third year at college. He’d changed his major yet again and Hank was, quite frankly, over it, “Boy, you gotta make up your mind at some point. I’m not going to keep dumping money into daydreams.”

He wished he could take the words back the instant they left his mouth. He heard the harshness, his mouth running away from him before he could arrange the words into what he actually meant. He wanted Cole to succeed—to enjoy the work he did, whatever that may be. Mostly, he just wanted Cole to be happy.

Cole hadn’t cried since he was a kid. Hearing the hushed sound of him sucking in air around quiet sobs got Hank across the threshold and into Cole’s room without thinking. He didn’t accept his father’s hug with grace, but he didn’t push him away either.

So they talked and Cole dropped out of college in favor of enrolling in culinary school. If Cole wanted to change the world one crepe at a time, then Hank was going to do everything in his power to help him achieve that goal.

Two years later, he’s sitting inside his son’s café beaming at the menus stamped with Cole’s name. It doesn’t take long for the place to fill up. A beleaguered looking waitress asks Hank if he’s doing alright on coffee and he nods.

The bell tinkles again and Hank can almost taste the visceral terror in the server at the thought of having to wait on yet another customer this busy morning.

“I got this one,” Cole murmurs into her ear and she nods. He waves at the man and gestures for him to have a seat at the counter. He gives Hank a once over and takes a stool next to him. He’s younger than Hank but a good deal older than Cole.

“Hello, Chef!” Cole reaches for the man’s hand to shake it.

They grip palms over the counter and the man glances once more at Hank, “Really, Cole. I’ve told you. You can just call me Connor.”

Cole ignores him and nods his head in Hank’s direction, “Dad, this is Connor. He was the lead chef at school.”

Connor’s eyes go a touch wide when his palm slots against Hank’s. They stick to pleasantries until Cole bustles off to help his staff manage the swarm of customers.

“So, what was with the face?” Connor startles at the abrupt question.

He takes a swallow of coffee to buy himself some time, “What do you mean?”

Hank grins before imitating Connor’s wide-eyed expression with extreme exaggeration. Connor huffs, “Oh, it was not _that_ obvious.”

“But you admit you did give me a look,” Hank points at him with a fork, a bite of crepe skewered on the end.

“Yes, well,” Connor glances to Cole to make sure he’s out of earshot. “I wasn’t expecting him to introduce you as his father. I guessed you for younger.”

Hank does his best not to puff out his chest.

Before long, Hank has to return to work. He’d ducked out to grab a bite to eat and wish Cole luck. He knows he’s pushing Fowler’s goodwill with each minute he stays past nine.

Cole doesn’t let him pay so Hank slips Connor a twenty and whispers for him to leave it as a tip. Connor snags his sleeve as he tries to leave.

Pulling a business card from his wallet, he presses it into Hank’s hand, “My number, if you ever need a chef to make you dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WorseMake).


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